


(No) Time For Emotion

by fauxcorona



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxcorona/pseuds/fauxcorona
Summary: When you thought being able to hold back your emotions makes you a good Kingsman, Harry knows better of how to take care of your feelings.





	(No) Time For Emotion

“Thank Goodness,” you said, when you finally arrived in the hotel suite you shared with Harry. The room was exquisite. You were glad because for the next task you were booked to stay in Birmingham, your hometown. You felt safe. You felt peace, even if only a fleeting one, because you knew you had to prepare for your next task in your mission. All in all, you had indeed plenty of things to be grateful, that seemed like a blow of fresh air that could make you forget that you just had one of your unluckiest days.

“Shall we make the reports now, or do you prefer it later?” Harry offered.

“Best we do it while it’s hot,” you replied, suggesting to work on your reports right away.

You sat down on the sofa, taking out a piece of paper and a pen, and starting to write down some notes to begin with while Harry unpacked the briefcase, spreading the evidences you had both collected all over the coffee table.

You clicked your pen, thinking for a moment as what to write first. You decided to begin with the most important thing from the previous task, and when you only managed to write a few letters you came to a halt. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

Harry was snapped by the sound of your curse, he stopped moving for a second and glanced up to see your writing on the paper.

 

 _Percival_ , was the only word written on it.

 

“How could I forget?” you said, sighing at the return of your possibly worst memory by far. Only a few hours ago, you watched your best friend, Alan Ramsay—known as Agent Percival, died. Harry was there with you when you witnessed his death. Although the two of you managed to carry on with the mission, you couldn’t deny that it was still a great shock to both of you.

“Perhaps not that hot,” you added as you chuckled hopelessly, knowing well that you let out that small ironic laughter only to comfort yourself. You decided to go back to your paper, trying to keep writing your notes.

You started to think that perhaps you were at your best when you’re working; you remembered the moment when Alan died, you were shocked beyond belief but when the situation required you to keep going, you somehow managed to compromise with it and leave your pain and emotions behind you.

Now you had something to work on, and you still had a few tasks ahead of you, you think it was best to keep distracting yourself from the emotions by keeping yourself fixated on your work, until you’re really finished with everything and you feel like you’re permitted to cry.

Harry watched you trying to scribble down another few words. He was silent, and his expression slowly fell when he saw your trembling hand and the way you bit your lip as if trying to hold something back—and you didn’t dare to look back at him, with all those emotions that started to creep up your face.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see that his mouth was halfway opened as if he was about to say something, but eventually he stayed silent. When you found the courage to look at him, he was already working back on his briefcase, taking out the last items and gathering them on the table.

You wondered how he managed to be like that; to keep cool, to focus on his work, to act as if nothing had happened after you possibly just mentioned the death of a friend you both hold most dearly. The thoughts of it made you feel like you’re not acting professional; as a Kingsman, you had been trained to save the tears for later, but your current state started to tell you that you wouldn’t last long till your breakdown, while Harry, as you could see, seemed to be just fine in keeping his duty.

Feeling horrible, you closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh, decided to get up from your seat and move to continue your writing on the dining table. With your back facing Harry’s direction, you went back to your paper to continue your notes. You needed to stay focused and keep yourself together, you thought. And by keeping yourself together meant to situating yourself to be able to focus on your work completely, without being repressed and all.

“Need any help?” Harry finally spoke, sounding casual although he felt himself hesitated at first. You didn’t reply, as you were struggling to keep writing because your hand kept trembling and suddenly it was hard to breathe, you felt yourself unable to say a word to answer him. Harry stood still and waited for your response, until one time he heard a sniffle coming from you.

“Guinevere,” “—I got it, Galahad.” you cut him, your voice cracking without your will since you forced the words slip out of your mouth as you held your breath. Behind you, Harry stared at you with a concerned look, your response only made him command himself to step closer to you.

“Y/N,” he called your name when he finally stood right behind you, watching you struggling to write with your trembling hand. “I can finish this, Harry.” you said, chuckling nervously. “You—you better sort our files we just retrieved,” you said again, trying to keep him away from your personal space, with every once in a while you paused your writing because your hand had moved uncontrollably, your handwriting started to look like scrawls.

Harry didn’t say anything, and instead of obeying your request, he pulled the chair next to you and sat down on it. Placing one elbow on the table, he looked to his side at you. Out of discomfort, you lifted your left hand and caressed your temple with it, your fingers now covering the side of your face that was previously visible to Harry. “Y/N,” he called again, trying to pull your left hand but you resisted. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m trying to work, Harry.” you answered, but no matter how hard you try to sound stern, another sniffle came from you.

“Why?” he asked, leaning his face closer to your direction. At that moment you stopped writing, you closed your eyes and the tears that you once fought finally fell down, wetting the paper below you. “I’m sorry—” you finally said, tossing your pen down and bringing both your hands up, covering your face with your palms.

You massaged your forehead with the tip of your fingers, trying to stop your tears from falling. When you felt like you’ve calmed down a little bit, you wiped your cheeks with both your hands, and stared back at Harry.

“I’m sorry, Galahad. I’ve slowed our work down, should’ve remembered my training. I’m so sorry I’ll be back on—” “—Shhh,” Harry cut in, stopping you from taking your pen by gripping your hand in immediate move.

“Don’t fight it, Y/N.” he said, putting your pen and paper away, demanding your focus to him. Slowly, you shook your head, still wondering how he managed to keep a straight face, the way you both had been trained to be able to do in such situation. The only difference is that you saw that he knitted his eyebrows, the growing concern were drawn across his expression. “How?” you retorted,

 

“How can I not fight my emotions over a fallen friend while you’re sitting there, calm as hell without even trying?” you asked him, sounding more like you were blaming yourself rather than him.

Harry found himself speechless at your question, knowing well that you’ve been resisting your sentiments, but not expecting that you’ve been comparing yourself to him at this situation.

 

“Because you’re a good agent, Y/N,” he answered carefully, keeping his gaze stern at your eyes, before giving a small nod in affirmation as he mentioned your name. He paused for a moment and there was silence except your nervous breathing, as his gaze softened. And before you knew it, he leaned closer, pulling you into a hug.

You were surprised by his reaction; you froze a little once your bodies touched, questioning his affectionate moves that you hadn’t been quite expecting.

“and it’s bloody time for emotion.” he continued, as his chin was now rested on your shoulder, and his arms wrapped around your back.

 

At his confirmation, you sighed, allowing your arms to wrap around his neck, letting yourself melt into his warm embrace. And not long after that, you found yourself the safest place you had never imagined existed for you before: Harry’s shoulder.

 

“But I’ve got to work, Harry…” you said, still doubting that your heart and head had not been working synchronously in this situation.

“We’ve got to work,” you said again, now coming out as a whisper, but Harry could hear them clearly as you spoke right by his ear.

 

“Nonsense,” he responded, pulling you tighter.

“Absolute nonsense.” he added, then his hand went up and gently stroked your back, reassuring you.

 

That’s when you felt yourself begin to burst out; you were now crying hardly on his shoulder. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t think you were letting yourself down, making yourself inferior to your fellow agent. Instead, you felt _safe_. You felt the pain, but it was the pain that was now you were able to release. You also only felt Harry; a friend who understands you, a man you just adored and loved even more now.

Harry closed his eyes, not saying anything as he let you break down in tears. He realized that he had some stirring emotions within him himself, and as he heard your muffled cry and kept his gentle strokes on your back, he let himself contemplating his last moments with Alan, just seconds before his death.

 

_“Harry,” Alan called suddenly, using his last remaining energy to lift his hand, gripping Harry’s wrist to demand his attention. Harry quickly stopped moving, bent down knowing that his fellow agent might need to say something important to him._

_“Can you do me a favor, Harry?”_ _Alan continued, wincing in pain but he struggled to carry on speaking._

_“Anything for you, my dear friend.” Harry replied. Alan gulped, trying to hold back the pain from his stinging wound but a smile formed on his face afterwards, at the thought of what he was about to say as his last words._

_“Take care of Y/N.” Alan said simply, but it was a request Harry didn’t quite expect coming from him. “Please. The woman loves you, and you must be an idiot if you don’t cherish that.”_

_Harry froze at his words, at something he never thought he would hear. He felt a sharp pang, but unsure if it was pain, or great relief; pain, because he hated how selfless Alan’s request was; and relief, at the discovery of the reciprocal feelings. With you._

_So Harry just nodded, having processed the information and his feelings altogether._

_“You don’t even have to ask, Alan.”_

Suddenly the warmth that was once all over the front of his body began to fade, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Harry?”

And suddenly, it was your voice; the moment his vision and consciousness of the present returned to him, he found himself still holding your sides, but now you were gazing at each other face-to-face, no longer hugging.

With a concerned look on your face, you brought your hand up, wiping away some hot tears that remained on Harry’s cheeks.

Harry stared at you blankly, before closing his eyes and there fell some more tears from them, that were once stuck on his lashes.

“See? Who said I don’t have to try?” he said as his gaze returned to you. His words brought a small smile on your face, but it wasn’t because you were happy to see him crying too; because then you knew, that Harry was _right_ :

 

It was bloody time for emotion, and you were glad and beyond relieved to be able to share each other’s tears with the man you loved.

 

“Thank you, Harry.”


End file.
